


animal romantic (it is communistic)

by Byacolate



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Food, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mercenaries in Love, Multi, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, or Why Not Stuff a Camper that can Comfortably Fit Only One with Three Tall Chain Smoking Asshats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in his natural habitat, the domestic Sniper cannot cook a decent meal to save his life. By some stroke of luck, the average wild Spy finds this trait to be tolerable, if not preferable, in a mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	animal romantic (it is communistic)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from the tf2promptfest: "Any/Any/Any - sharing"
> 
> The fandom is so frequently divided into either BLU Spy/RED Sniper or RED Spy/RED Sniper. Why pick just one?

“We live on rations, you know.”

 

BLU Spy’s eyebrows inch ever higher though he doesn’t deign to meet Spy’s eyes. Too distracted, probably. 

 

“And we don’t?” he responds in their native tongue. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe our Scout burns through them half as quickly as yours.” Spy rolls his eyes - not for the statement that he cannot confirm or deny as truth, but because they both know the ire it inspires in Sniper when they don’t share a common language. Not for the first time he wonders at the giddy pleasure emanating from BLU Spy when a curse is muttered across the cramped quarters at him. He has nowhere near the antagonistic relationship with the enemy Sniper that BLU Spy has with theirs.

 

To be fair, they have been trying to teach him a little French. Perhaps if the vocabulary left the realm of the bedroom, it would be more beneficial for everyday conversation. Or petty insults.

 

He lights a cigarette and follows his counterpart’s gaze toward the form hunched over the mini stove, red sleeves rolled up to his biceps as he attempts to fashion a proper meal for a gourmand, vegetarian, and himself. 

 

Their eyes rove over the back of his neck and the little dark curls there that BLU Spy will toy with until Sniper petulantly convinces Spy to cut his hair - a dance they've perfected over thirteen long months. He has a strong neck, perfectly able for taking two sets of lips and teeth, one after the other, marked up and mottled below the high collar of his vest. 

 

His shoulders aren’t exceptionally broad and his posture is lanky, but the enemy spies find themselves inexplicably drawn to his form nonetheless. It certainly helps that he is so tall, that his hands are so broad, that the muscles in his back are worth sitting back to appreciate.  

 

And his backside - 

 

“Two of you wanna stop staring at my ass for five minutes and make yourselves useful?”

 

“Not bloody likely,” BLU Spy says in clear mimicry of his accent, grinning toothily around his own cigarette when Sniper glares in his direction. In the cramped space of the camper, sprawled over the bed as they are, that also happens to be Spy’s direction. His eyebrows tick innocently upward when the look falls on him.

 

“Don’t give me that look,” Sniper says dryly, but beyond the downward curve of his mouth, Spy can see amusement in his eyes. “Of the both of us, you’re s’posed to have the most control over him.”

 

“I have his fear and respect,” Spy drawls, ignoring BLU Spy’s muffled noise of protest. “What more control could I possibly want?”

 

Sniper laughs then, a quiet sound, and just to spite his counterpart Spy takes a deep breath through his nose before he hums in appreciation. “That smells wonderful, _mon loup_.” It earns him a look of skepticism before a tiny uptick of a smile from Sniper. BLU snorts beside him and pilfers one of the cigarettes from the case in Spy’s discarded jacket pocket. 

 

“What rubbish is that coming from your mouth,” he mutters in French, lighting it up with Sniper’s zippo. “Talking sweetly to him won’t give him any more skill in the kitchen. In the end it will be burnt beyond recognition like all the rest.”

 

In English, Spy replies, “I certainly think we will be rewarded for all his hard work.” And then in their native tongue, “Little blue rats should not be so quick to scorn the crumbs that should not fill their bellies in the first place.”

 

“Don’t speak in parables to me,” BLU Spy sulks, rolling over to tap his ashes out the window. 

 

Sure enough though, by the time Sniper grunts and starts to dish up two plates of something unidentifiable, the camper has begun to reek of charred cheese. Sniper curses under his breath and scrapes off the worst of the burnt sides of two thick slices of toast in the sink to rinse down later, and smothers them in blueberry jam - practically a delicacy in the middle of the dessert, special ordered just for BLU - before he deems them passable and sets them on the table.  


 

"If you think you're gonna get crumbs all over my bed..." he starts warningly, and Spy slides off the bed while BLU finishes his cigarette. He gives Sniper a little smile and takes the bread first, holding it up to Sniper's mouth and giving it a little pointed wiggle. 

 

"I'll get my own," Sniper grumbles, and Spy smirks. 

 

"Did you think we wouldn't notice you gave us the last of the bread?" BLU snorts from the bunk. Sniper's a little red around the ears, but he doesn't protest when Spy feeds him the toast. At least, he doesn't until it really sinks in that he's being hand-fed and he pulls back, wiping the crumbs from mouth with the back of a hand. 

 

Spy may or may not brush a smudge of dark jam from the corner of Sniper's mouth and suck it clean from his thumb because BLU's not entirely alone in finding Sniper a thrill to fluster.

  
By the time BLU makes it to the table, Spy's already finished with his toast and halfway through BLU's. The enemy Spy makes a noise of indignation and cries foul. He's trying and near failing not to protest Spy devouring the only palatable thing left in the kitchen where Sniper can understand them. Spy quirks a brow.  
  
  


“I don’t see why you're upset. We’re already in the habit of sharing, aren't we?”

 

 

It's an argument that he's used time and time again, because despite his best efforts, BLU always glances between Spy and Sniper and the irritation in his face dissipates bit by bit until he's sighing and flopping down in the chair squeezed beside Spy's. 

 

Spy finishes BLU's toast in three triumphant bites. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Love With The 3 of Us” by Stereo Total: _It is sexy, ecstatic, crazy, eccentric, animal, romantic / It is communistic / Uuuuuh I love love with the three of us._
> 
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/).


End file.
